New Directions part 29 (updated text)

 

 

 Loyal to no one, Barry Stokes has no alliances and certainly no morals. He’ll snitch on anybody for a price and pass info both ways. It provides a lucrative sideline. Generally dishing up dirt about old school small to medium outfits, he tries to avoid anything county line — he’s a useful informant, but I suspect his life expectancy is mathematically proportional to how long he keeps it that way. 

 

It was this old school mentality I was banking on. Villains like them still have red lines and violence to women is one of them. Of course if any word from him raises even an inkling with the law about me there’ll be at least three contracts out on him from day one. Certain people I knew have too much to lose. Barry Stokes knows this, that’s why he’ll tell me the truth.

 

Pushing himself hard against the back of the couch as if trying to get as far away from me as he could he turned his head to one side to view me out the corner of his eyes, ‘What do you want to know? Then he faced me and leaned forward an inch, 'Anything for you. . . . You know that, Mate.’

 

‘Do I?’ I pressed home the point with a gentle squeeze on a nerve in his shoulder.

 

‘Don’t do that, mate my arm’s going numb.’ he said using irritated tone, ‘I told yer didn’t I? Anything I can.’ 

 

Since he didn’t squeal like an injured puppy, I knew he’d accepted his situation. ‘Alright, first question: how far’ve the law got finding the scum that tried to kill the old lady in Maplebury?’

 

 ‘What?’ Stokes screwed up his nose, his forehead a mass of furrows, ‘since when are you interested in what the coppers are up to?

 

Pushing a finger into the pit of his stomach I reminded him, ‘I’m here to ask questions not answer ‘em.’ 

 

Caressing the dent in his jumper he said, Alright, alright. No need for that, Terry, mate. I just had lunch,’ taking a deep breath, he blew it out again, a faint odour of whisky circled my head. . . . ‘They found the van dumped in Savernake forest. Blood everywhere. Forensics are all over it checking for fingerprints and DNA. . . . Coppers reckoned they tried to set it on fire. Made a right pigs ear, it weren’t even singed. No tyre tracks except the van’s. They probably legged it. Most likely got picked up somewhere quiet. Easy enough to disappear in that place.’

 

‘Have they come up with any names yet?’

 

‘Well, here’s the best bit: not just a name they got a body. It was inside the van with his fucking head caved in, they smashed his jaw too, sadist pricks.’

 

The mention of the jaw confirmed it was the guy who felt the power of my long lost truncheon. ‘What’s this arsehole called?’

 

‘Dunno, the copper didn’t say. They knew him though — bloke from Slough. Worked for a local security outfit on supermarkets until they kicked him out. Bit heavy with shop lifters. Put a fifteen-year old girl in hospital. She claimed she was putting something she didn’t want back on the shelf. Supermarket hushed it up. No one pressed charges. No doubt the parents got a shit load, and he prick got away with it—‘

 

‘—except he’s dead.’

 

’Thats life.’ Barry smiled at his joke, ‘they’ll be checking out any associates now’

 

’Slough eh?’ I might have guessed, no shortage of part time villains there, but it’s the last place anyone with a brain would go to pick a team for a blag like this one. Slough would be high on any detective’s list. Whoever was behind this was either new at it or plain stupid. Most likely a combination of both. The sideways smirk on Stokesy’s face said he thought the same.

 

‘That all they got?’ Barry’s shrug told me it was all he knew, ’so much for the law, what about the ones in the woodwork?’

 

’Hey they’re not fucking cockroaches, show some respect,’ Barry seemed offended. I suppose he thought I’d lumped him in with a bunch of shit eating insects. My apologetic shrug placated him, ‘still working on that. Those weasels are either new or most likely from outside what posh cunts call, the M4 corridor. It’ll take a bit more time, but rest assured there’s plenty of players round here who want those pieces of garbage found. Last thing they want is the local bill fired up. Beating the crap out of women, ’specially helpless old ladies is fucking unacceptable. Anyway, the feelers are definitely out.’

 

Barry looked directly into my eyes. He was serious. I could see he desperately wanted me believed him. I said nothing and we sat in silence for a minute or so while I considered the intel. Outside the sounds of water lapping against the boat and the whinge of quarrelling coots filled the vacuum. 

 

Barry broke first, ‘Why ‘yer so interested in these geezers? You’d be better off letting the bill handle it wouldn’t ‘cher? I mean why’ yer sticking your neck out like this.’

 

It was a good question, one I’d asked myself more than once. ‘It’s personal plus I have a powerful feeling they’ll try again.’ I surprised myself at my honesty.

 

‘You really think they were out to kill her?’ Stokes puzzled expression showed he hadn’t thought about that possibility.

 

‘Even more now you told me they topped that bloke.’ 

 

‘The law aren’t thinking attempted murder.’

 

’That’s why I want to find them before the cops do. Even if I’m wrong I want to know who’s behind it. For sure it ain’t their gorillas.’

 

 Barry shook his head as if he’d just swallowed a bad taste. ‘Well if you’re that sure I’ll put it out.’

 

’No fucking names Barry!’ 

 

He held his hands up palms facing me, ‘Alright, alright! Gimme some credence . . . I don’t have a fucking death wish. . . . I’ll start a rumour, that’ll do it.

 

The look on Stokesy’s face made me burst out laughing. I returned the same gesture. ‘Ok let’s drink on it.’

 

After a shot of whisky I left Barry and walked back to the car, I even shook his hand. ‘I’ll be in touch, but don’t come here again,’ he said,  ‘I’ll let you know where.